


there's nothing more he needs, or can have, or can get

by Edwardina



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: blindfold_spn, Dirty Talk, Impregnation Kink, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-25
Updated: 2011-01-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 22:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2363645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edwardina/pseuds/Edwardina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: While fucking underage!Dean, John is overcome with the need to breed and tells Dean that he's knocking him up and that his belly's gonna swell with his seed etc. No actual mpreg please, I just want the filthy impreg talk. ;D I'd prefer Dean to be no older than 13, but I'd take anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there's nothing more he needs, or can have, or can get

**Author's Note:**

> Written for blindfold_spn and originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/3417.html?thread=3718745#t3718745).
> 
> Blindfold always brings out my inner John/Dean shipper. Title from the song [A Cowboy Needs A Horse](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3YLmQDN5B5E), appropos of almost nothing.

Sammy's out like a light, one arm flopped over the side of the roll-out, and has been since Letterman got past the Top Ten List. Even without the door to the bedroom locked, John feels freer tonight than he has in a while... weeks. Months, maybe.

He doesn't just climb into bed beside Dean, slide his hand down his boy's belly and jerk him off under the sheet, shushing him not with words or air through his teeth, but just with tensing, pausing, till Dean's hips are squirming pitifully. He doesn't just let himself be touched through his briefs by eager-to-learn hands, or let his dick slide, fat and adult, between his son's thighs till they're slick and smeared and dripping with a runny white load and Dean is staring down at it in awe. Yeah, not tonight.

Tonight he gets Dean ready for his cock for real, muttering encouragement and making Dean break out into a sweat as he gets fingered. The bead of sweat starts at his sideburn and slides around his round face as John finger-fucks his insides, adjusting them to the pressure and rhythm that's just a hint of what it will be.

He'd never think of this body as a woman's, or even a man's. Dean's sprouting before his eyes, but his body's still straight like an arrow till the bow of his legs -- he's a little cowboy, tough and used to the ride. The only hair on his body is sandy peachfuzz, glistening if the sunlight catches it on his calves or the lamplight sees John's got his pants down. No tits, no flare of hips from a tucked-in waist. Still, no woman would cling to John like Dean does; no one could make him feel this neanderthal need to own just by dropping his eyelids and saying, _Yes, sir_.

"What do you always do, Dean?" he quizzes lowly, intent on it as the drop of sweat slides into the corner of Dean's mouth.

"Use a condom," Dean recites through clumsy lips. "Except with you."

"Why don't we use a condom, Dean?"

"You're my dad," huffs Dean. "You don't have to."

"That's right," John hisses. "Only my boy gets my bare dick inside. Gonna open up for me, son?"

"Yeah, Dad." Quick, breathless, tense with anticipation.

With his knees hooked over John's elbows and his eyes squeezed shut, Dean takes it without any complaint other than squeaking breaths, a good little wife. His hands are doing their best to hold his own ass cheeks open, his hole forced open in a wide O around the thick cock John's sinking inside him, impossibly huge for such a young boy to comfortably take. The slick of it is all fake, but Dean wants it. His pre-teen dick is rosy and stiff and flexing restlessly, leaping every time it seems to occur to Dean what they're doing, how obedient he's being. He breathes, "Dad," reverentially when John's balls-deep and flattening him to the mattress with the knob of his prick deep up in Dean's stomach.

The very idea, the fucking _mental picture_ of his slit letting off in the pit of a womb Dean doesn't really have, sets John off. He's going to have to drink till he passes out after this.

"Feel that?" he whispers gruffly, just for Dean to hear, not minding the squeaking of the mattress as he pumps his dick into Dean and insists on trying to bury it deeper every time. "So deep in you, it makes me wanna breed you, Dean."

"Breed me?" Dean chokes, somewhere between pained and hopeful.

"Yeah, sweetheart. You know what that means?"

Dean hesitates, then shakes his head on the pillow, eyes still firmly shut. "No, sir."

Surely, he must have some idea, John thinks -- but maybe he doesn't. Maybe Dean is too young and innocent, still. He doesn't mind if that's the case.

"Wanna breed you," he repeats patiently, like he's teaching Dean about any other thing. "Wanna get you pregnant. Knock you up just like this --"

Saying it out loud is like a fist to the gut... it's been so long since trying for Sammy, saying all this like a perverted prayer. With his wife, it was a possessive, loving, powerful thing. With Dean, it makes no sense at all, but it gets to him twice as hard, the idea of doing such a thing to his own son. His balls are pumping out throbbing wads of precome inside his boy's ass just thinking about it. Even that could be enough, he dimly realizes, and ruts into Dean hard a few times, ramming into his imaginary cervix and making Dean alternately gasp and cling and tense. John's taught him to take it slow for an hour, take it quick and sloppy for ten minutes, but never quite hard, and when Dean wiggles on his dick, that's a good sign, a silent _please_.

"Yeah, that's right," John says, his voice dropped low and dark. "Gonna get you pregnant doing this, son. Shoot my come up in your belly till you're swelling with my child."

"Da-ad," Dean squeaks, catching his breath.

"You'd do that for me, huh, Dean?" John asks. Already knowing it's true, that Dean would obey if only it were possible, is making him ache with the need to shoot already. "Get knocked up for me and be round with my child, have my fucking baby."

"Yes, sir."

It's barely a whisper, barely formed, but it grabs John by the balls, for a few seconds all he can hear the slick sounds of Dean's ass being beaten into the mattress and his own muttering, head dipped down low so Dean can hear everything he's saying too.

"Get you fucking pregnant. Cream your little ass, get you knocked up here and now and watch your belly get big. Watch you carry your father's child. Gonna be so horny while you're knocked up, Dean. Gonna want this all the time, wanting me to fuck your hole all the time, gonna wish you could get knocked up every time for me. Fuck -- Dean -- gonna come, boy, gonna breed you right now --"

"Yeah, Dad," Dean whispers, his body rigid. His fingers are still clawing at his ass, prying, holding it wide open. "Breed me."

John unloads with a groan, locked deep into Dean's ass, pumping his son's guts full of hot seed that he can feel seeping around his dick. Dean's whispering is so shy but so willing, that god, he can't help but know that Dean means it wholeheartedly.

"Jerk off, Dean," he growls. "Show me how much you like it."

Dean obeys quickly, his right hand fumbling to grab at his hard dick and work it frantically.

"Come on my dick," John tells him, his muscles still flinching and balls still clutching through shocks of orgasm, his load still pumping out to impregnate his son. "Come on my dick while it's knocking you up, son."

"Yes, sir," hiccoughs Dean, "yes, sir --"

"That's it," John grunts, feeling Dean's insides clutch at him wantingly. His son's balls, round and pink and hairless, clench close, and a spurt of cloudy jizz erupts over his low-sunk belly. That's about as much as Dean can shoot off now -- sometimes a little more, sometimes less -- and just how much more come is sitting up in his son's belly makes John want to grin.

Dean's lips are dry and hot and hungry when John gives him a kiss.

"Good job, Dean," he says, and gets a relieved, sleepy sigh.


End file.
